


the way you say "i love you."

by shomarus



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-11 23:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15327249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shomarus/pseuds/shomarus
Summary: it's never quite the same. not in tone, not in intent, not in meaning. it's love all the while.





	1. as a hello.

**Author's Note:**

> immmmm taking an indefinite hiatus on my longer works which is fine because i write oneshots better than i do any sort of longfic. i might throw up a new fic (one that's been better planned so i don't make Really Stupid Writing Choices) but until then you get these. ooups.
> 
> all of the prompts are from [this post!](https://mintjuleps.tumblr.com/post/170887323641/the-way-you-said-i-love-you)
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!!

Carol says it idly one morning, when Therese comes home from a work party and Carol’s drinking coffee in the kitchen. There’s sort of a soft pinkish light in the room that makes Carol’s hair peachier than it is, and Therese wonders if it’s that atmosphere that makes Carol so lax.

“Love you, Therese.”

Therese doesn’t expect it when she hears it, and stops when she does. 

A set of tired grey eyes look up at her quizzically. In a voice thick with sleep, Carol mumbles something that sounds like, “Something the matter?” It’s largely unremarkable, those words in Carol’s mouth. Therese hears it all the time, in rushed giggling after being whisked away from a meeting, in nervous gestures from a Carol who’d lost her cool, in confident stride when Therese feels vulnerable. It makes her wonder why they sounded so revolutionary just then. Perhaps it was the way she’d said it, casually and so temptingly domestic, the fact that it’d been her first thought in the morning. In a matter of seconds, whatever sort of sleeplessness Therese might have had is washed away, and left underneath is a heart that glows with love. 

“No, nothing’s the matter,” Therese decides on after a brief second, and practically skips to the icebox to pull out the bottle of milk.

Of course, Carol is not quite so easily fooled and raises both an eyebrow and her coffee mug. “It’s far too early for you to be giddy. I should know firsthand.” The spoon she’d used to stir her cream is pointed accusingly at Therese. Therese laughs, and pulls a hand to her forehead in mock offense.

“How you wound me. So maybe I’m a little happy—it’s only because I’m here with you.”

Carol hums into her coffee, and perhaps if it were a little later she’d have made a witty remark that devolved into senseless banter, banter that Therese would have later let Carol run along with. She does not. If Therese looks a little harder, Carol could even be beaming at her. But she hides her face in the mug, and Therese wonders when she’d become so endearing. “You’re a sap,” Carol mutters, voice clearer, but still tired. Therese pours out a glass of milk and grabs a knife. Two slices of bread from the breadbox.

Therese asks, “Are you hungry?” 

“If I was hungry, you’d have noticed the plates in the sink already.  I like it when you do the dishes,” Carol responds with an air of smugness, and then more softly, “And you’re later than usual. I’d like some toast, I think.”

Four slices of bread from the breadbox. A stab of butter.

How silly of her to think that there’d ever be another person like Carol in her life. Nobody could possibly be so confident yet unsure, so joyful yet melancholic, and all of this in the same breath. To think that Therese might have thrown this all away—ah, but that was all in the past now. To continue thinking about it would only take away from the feeling of now, how right everything seems, how precious and gentle Carol is.

“For the record,” Therese says idly while grabbing plates, shoving bread into the toaster, looking back at Carol and feeling inexplicable admiration, “I love you too.”

Carol stops in the very same way, and Therese’s heart explodes.


	2. with a hoarse voice, under the blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writers block is kicking me in the ass so this is gonna be a short chapter story. widdle drabbles because my brain is bad at words. 
> 
> if you wanna talk to me abt carol or like anything else im on tumblr as mintjuleps 
> 
> thank you for reading!! <3

Carol doesn’t think about it all that much. The amount of times she’s thought about it has gone down considerably since Therese agreed to move in with her. Down further when they shared their anniversary in this very room. And yet, when it does pop into her mind, it doesn’t simply linger until she shoos the thought away. Sometimes not even then, she notes with a sour chuckle. The thought, intrusively, comes at her swinging violently, bringing her down to the lowest level.

Perhaps, Carol thinks, she is not good enough for Therese.

It’s hard for her to admit she still thinks about it. After all, Therese has done so much for her. She’d been so deep-set in her own self-pitying ways that she’d hardly believed she could have the life she’d dreamed of back when she was twenty years old and still giggly. Carol would even dare to say that Therese painted the mere concept of love in a whole different light for her. Even after Therese assures her that Carol has done more than enough for her in turn… It’s hard. Hard not to think it, after a lifetime of being conditioned to be told that Carol’s kind of love is unnatural. A sort of love that always ends badly—and Carol thinks that because of her own foolishness, it nearly had.

But it hasn’t, she reminds herself. Carol had rolled the dice, rolled them again, and against all odds, it’d worked. Now she lives with Therese in a large apartment, with a dark room and plants that they water and lovely face to wake up to. Little things she she had rarely shared with anyone in her life before, much less Hargess.

Therese stirs under her arms, and Carol forces a smile, if not simply to raise her own spirits. Therese wants her. She makes it obvious in the way that she kisses her, how she moves and speaks. Carol would be a rather cruel woman for denying Therese of her want, but it’s that wriggling little thing in the back of her mind… Oh, if only she could pick it up with her fingernails and fling it to the wind.

A kiss is pressed to the back of Therese’s head. It’s funny how familiar this seems to her, a morning full of joy. Right in her arms, and oh-so eager. How could Carol possibly top these precious little moments? Therese stirs again, and this time she turns over to look at Carol. Carol laughs, “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Oh… I was having the most wonderful dream,” Therese mumbles sleepily. A tired grin spreads across her face, “Now that you’re here, it’s come true.”

“God,” Carol begins, amused by Therese’s antics and domesticity both, “you always seem to know what to say, even when you’re barely conscious.”

Therese simply smiles and inches closer. They stay like that for a moment, until Carol sighs and pulls away. “I hate to leave you now, but I have work in an hour.” Therese pouts, but lets her get up. There would be many other mornings for cuddles and sex and whatever else it is either of them may wish from one another. Still, Carol thinks she might try to make up for it. “When I get back, we’ll go out for dinner? What do you think about Martel’s?”

“Martel’s? Fuck yes,” Therese drawls, peeking up at Carol from underneath the sheets. “Love that. Love you.”

And there’s something in the way that Therese says it, made hoarse by sleep that in turn makes Carol so suddenly pleased. A surge of joy rises in her, and her thoughts are quelled.

Of course. Who cares if Carol doesn’t believe herself deserving of love? Therese does, and that’s worth more than anything in the world.


End file.
